


A Long Time Coming

by Owaya1



Category: One Piece
Genre: Character Death, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, If you squint really hard there is some, Sort of happy ending though, This fic is pretty self-indulgent, ZoLu-centric, i felt like writing it, it's sad, zolu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 20:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8462062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owaya1/pseuds/Owaya1
Summary: Zoro does not turn — he has never needed to before.He has faith.______________Or, me dabbling self-indulgently in things best left alone. Highly unoriginal and most certainly done before. Enjoy.





	

         

 _“Dreams do come true, if only we wish hard enough. You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it.”_  
_― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan_

 

          When Zoro wakes to the horrible sound of his captain groaning in pain, he does what he always does. He reacts.

          In a fraction of a heartbeat Zoro is on his feet, all three swords drawn, and all his senses straining to detect their invisible attacker.

          They are alone on the deck, Luffy a few steps behind him by the railing. Zoro doesn’t turn to lay eyes on his captain, doesn’t glance to make sure he is unharmed.

          Zoro doesn’t need to — he has never needed to before.

          The King of the Pirates gasps, a jagged breathless intake of air like he’s been hit again, like he’s in pain. Real pain, true pain.

          The swordsman knows about pain, knows the kind damage his captain takes — _used to take_ — in a serious fight. He knows first hand — Kuma made sure of it.

          Zoro has never heard his captain whimper before, not in pain. Not really.

          Not until now.

          The sound has Zoro’s hackles rising, has him taking his Oni stance, drawing dark seething power around him like a cloak — a shroud — all six phantom arms ready, poised to launch the deadliest attacks in his arsenal. Zoro wishes he could tie his bandana but he dares not sheathe his swords to do it. There’s a monster here tonight, something strong enough to wound the King of the Pirates, someone quick enough to catch Monkey D. Luffy off guard.

          The warm sea breeze plays lazily with Zoro’s hair, barely strong enough to lift the edges of their flag high up it in the mast. The night smells like seawater, like night-time, like peaceful evenings and lazy dreams.

          It smells like blood.

          Zoro stiffens, then immediately forces himself to relax, to crouch deeper, to let his shoulders hang looser. He can sense his friends — his crewmates — sleeping soundly below deck, and he ignores the small pang of panic this realization causes. Eyebrow’s hasn’t felt anything, neither has Usopp; they would be awake if they had.

          Why hadn’t they?

          Why hadn’t Zoro?

          Behind him, Luffy gasps again. It’s a wet, gurgling sound, and it is horribly, horribly wrong.

          Zoro doesn’t turn.

          Faith.

          Zoro only ever had faith in himself — in his dream — there was never room for more, not until he met Luffy.

          He has faith in Luffy now, and in his crew. Now, he has faith.

          Zoro does not turn — he has never needed to before.

          He has faith.

          “Oi Luffy.” Zoro hisses, because he’s unnerved, because everything is wrong. “What’s going on? What attacked you? What’s here?”

          There’s no reply, just more gasps, more noises of pain, small and piercing.

          Why can’t Zoro feel anything? Why is his Haki enhanced senses failing him now?

          Zoro’s mouth is dry, his heart galloping, blood rushing in his ears.

          Zoro doesn’t turn — he dares not. Turning would be a betrayal, a breach of faith, a shattering of trust. Luffy is okay — he always is. Any minute now, his Captain will stand up and take a fighting stance, feet planted solidly on the deck, a fist raised and ready.

          — Any second now —

          The next whimper is worse, small and broken, and this time Zoro calls out — calls for Chopper, — for help. He can feel the crew stirring to life below, Eyebrows already on his feet and running up the stairs, the rest behind him.

          They have never heard Zoro call for help before. Not really.

          Not like this.

          Sanji stops dead in the doorway, eyes fixing on the shape Zoro can feel lying behind him. For a long heartbeat, the world stops as Zoro processes look of horror that settles onto Sanji’s face, the look of true panic.

          “Chopper!” Zoro bellows, because Luffy needs medical attention, because everything is wrong, because he _should_ turn but doesn’t.

          His dark aura is growing, sucking in the stars’ sparse light, and he takes two crucial steps forward, away form his captain so that the frightened Chopper can rush to Luffy’s side.

          The night is so quiet, so peaceful.

          Eyebrows moves to stand beside Zoro, — on guard, haki coating his legs, — trusting in the swordsman’s senses, trusting that there is something out there in the night, something huge and fierce and strong enough to cause their Captain harm. Zoro doesn’t correct him, doesn’t stop his eyes from scouring the night.

          Nothing.

          How can there be nothing?

          Nothing. Nothing. _Nothing._

          Chopper is crying, but that doesn’t mean anything, Chopper always cries when one of them is hurt.

          Nami rushes to help Chopper, she’s crying too, and the rest line up besides Zoro and Sanji, forming a loose circle around their captain. Zoro can feel Usopp trembling, but he too is ready for an attack — ready to face whatever daemons stalk this peaceful night.

          But there is nothing out there.

          Zoro doesn’t turn.

          He can’t.

          Faith.

          He has faith — it is his most defining trait. Honour, loyalty, passion, drive, — it all boils down to faith.

          “He may need surgery!” Chopper cries, his tone serious and businesslike despite the tears. The doctor has learned much since he first joined them; he has stitched them all together countless of times.

          Franky and Robin move to help lift Luffy, abandoning the line — turning away from the night, — and Zoro grits his teeth. Beside him, Sanji is breathing hard, his posture ridged with stress.

          Zoro strains his senses further — stretches them out for miles and miles. He can feel the great seakings swimming languorously far below them in the deepest depths of the ocean and a sky-rabbit jumping agilely on bits of skyisland high above. There is a pirate ship fifty miles to the east (or is it west?) sailing away from them, most of the crew sleeping, save for the two men on watch who has opened a bottle of whisky and is toasting to the Strawhats and the fall of the Celestial Dragons.

          The night smells like autumn, like fading sunlight and accomplished dreams. It smells like panic and tears and broken hearts.

          The night smells like blood.

          Behind him Robin and Franky has pieced together a stretcher and they carry Luffy gingerly towards Chopper’s office. Zoro moves with them, keeping a set distance between him and his Captain. He steps in a puddle of dark liquid but doesn’t look down to confirm what he already knows.

          There’s a hollow sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and suddenly all his old wounds ache with a fierceness that has him panting — the scars on his chest, on his ankles, the cut over his eye, — all the wounds he took where nobody could see them, the damage to his organs and the nicks to his bones.

          Zoro thinks back, back to that day on Ennis Lobby when Luffy almost died — not from an attacker but from exhaustion, from helplessness, from self-inflicted injuries. He thinks back to that moment, when he stood between his captain and Kuma. He thinks back to Sabaoady. They were all defeats of a kind, — all failures, disasters narrowly avoided.

          It has been a long time since Zoro has felt defeat, but he feels it now, creeping up on him. It feels inevitable somehow, and Zoro wonders if he should have anticipated this day — if he should have braced himself for it.

          But how could he have?

          He has faith.

          Zoro stops in the doorway, letting them go on with out him. He is useless in there, he can only guard.

          Sanji is speaking softly, and the rest file in behind Zoro, disappearing once again below deck. The two hardened fighters are left standing side by side in the doorway.

          “What is it?” Sanji finally asks, an edge of anger in his voice, a trace of accusation. _How did you let this happen?_

          But Zoro has no answer; he just grips his swords tighter, and lets his aura grow darker, fiercer. He can feel his Haki reserves slowly depleting bit by bit as he pushes his senses further out.

          There’s a navy ship some eighty miles away, sailing towards them and an island to the north (or is it south?) where peaceful giant merchants have anchored for the night.

          He can feel everything and nothing.

          There is no attacker out there.

          There is no monster.

          Instead, the monster is here with them on the ship, — and it has been so for a very long time, slowly growing. This is not something Zoro can cut, not something he can fight. He has his own monster after all, dwelling inside of him, slowly eating away at him from the inside — the ache reminds him of this.

          It makes him feel like crying. Zoro hasn’t cried since… Since the day he promised Luffy he would never lose again. It was such a brash promise, such a lie. It was so long ago.

          Ever so slowly, the World’s Greatest Swordsman lowers his guard, — the darkness of his aura fading away until the dim stars once more bathes the Thousand Sunny in their solemn glow.

          The puddle of blood on the deck seems too large to be real.

          Zoro’s swords clatter to the floor, the sound as jarring and as wrong as everything else this night, but Zoro barely hears it.

          Below, Chopper is barking out orders, and people are running around franticly, boiling water, grinding salves, and preparing tourniquets.

          Sanji stares at Zoro for a long while, at the discarded swords at his feet, and then finally, he turns and heads into the ship’s maw to help the others.

          Zoro looks up at the starry autumn sky, alone.

          He isn’t sure how long he stands there, how many breaths he takes before the commotion inside turns into a fragile, worried tension. He isn’t sure how long it takes before he hears what he has been waiting to hear since he woke.

          “Zoro.”

          Luffy’s voice is rough and small, but it is unmistakably his, and finally, — _finally —_ Zoro turns and heads inside.

          The crew is gathered around Luffy in the small office, Chopper fussing with the bandages but the rest slouched against the outer walls, giving the Captain space.

          The King of the Pirates is sitting up, despite the doctor’s protests. His eyes are red, and blood is crusting in his eyelashes like too many layers of mascara. Smudges of hastily wiped off blood decorates Luffy’s chin and left cheek. There are no visible wounds to be seen anywhere.

          Zoro walks right to Luffy’s side and their eyes meet, a solemn understanding passing between them. Of all the people Luffy has gathered around him over the years, he and Zoro are the most alike.

          Zoro reaches out, tentatively placing a hand on his Captain’s shoulder. In the privacy of Zoro’s shadow, Luffy lets some of his pain seep into his expression, a little bit of the exhaustion he has been carrying with him for years now.

          There, is the monster Zoro cannot fight for him. There, is death.

          Zoro feels his knees go weak, and he can already detect the first seeds of grief begin to fester within. He clutches Luffy’s shoulder harder, and his captain’s eyes tighten — not in pain, but in a mirror image of grief, of apology.

          The dumbass is _sorry._ What an idiot.

          As if either of them would have done anything different given the chance. The two of them never did believe in regrets.

          Zoro leans in, — his breathing almost as ragged as Luffy’s, — and he rests his forehead against his captain’s, closing his eyes.

          “I would fight this battle for you, if I could.” Zoro whispers, because it is the truth — has been the truth almost from the minute they met. Luffy gave him friends; gave him a family, people he would lay down his life for, people more important than any dream or ambition, — and then he made sure Zoro could have both.

          Luffy smiles — a small tired smile, a private smile, one not meant to reassure, — and pats Zoro's shoulder. ‘ _You honour me.’_ The smile seems to say, and Zoro nods, pulling away. There has never been a need for many words between them, they are alike after all, they understand.

          Zoro takes a step away, positioning himself to his captain’s right — as is his place — and sits down. He does not need to look to know that the exhaustion has slipped from Luffy’s face, to know that he is grinning in that stupid way of his. It defuses some of the tension in the cabin the way it always has — even if none of them are fooled.

          “Luffy,” Chopper says, his voice quavering with emotion, “The gears… After those two years… We thought they stopped hurting you. I thought—“ But Luffy interrupts before he can say any more.

          “Who cares,” the King of the Pirates announces, sounding almost bored, “the gears are _fun.”_ The childish relish Luffy imbeds in that last word shuts them up, and Zoro finds himself squinting at his captain, trying to see past the image of the 17-year-old boy he met in the execution-yard so many years ago — trying to see the man in his mid thirties with the crinkles around the eyes from smiling and squinting through harsh sunlight — but the boy remains, and Zoro is glad of this. They have all changed through the years, but Luffy will always be young in his mind.

          “Oi Robin!” Luffy croaks, “What was it that guy said? In the book you had me read — the one about the pirate and the crocodile.” There’s a beat of silence before Robin answers.

          “To die will be an awfully big adventure.” She whispers, and Luffy grins wider.

          It is as if the air has been sucked from the room, as they all struggle to process this. Zoro closes his eyes and concentrates on breathing, on maintaining his composure — this is his role on the ship. If Luffy is their engine — their propelling force — then Zoro is their anchor, the one who grounds them when the fight — the struggle — is no longer _out there_ but _in here,_ between them.

          Sanji seems to choke on something that could have been a sob but is passed off as a laugh.

          “Really Luffy?” Sanji says shaking his head, “ _you’re_ quoting _literature_? _Now?”_ Luffy just grins wider in response.

          “I’m sorry guys,” the King of the Pirates tells them, his smile never faltering, “but this is it.”

 

——

 

          Luffy vomits blood twice more that night, the crimson fluid leaking from his eyes and nose in gruesome rivulets.

          “Bursting blood vessels,” Chopper whispers brokenly when the others beg him to _do something_ , “caused by prolonged bodily stress and extreme over-excursion. There’s nothing I can do.”

          Zoro quiets them with a glare and a few words from his perch next to Luffy. It is not fair of them to plead like this with Chopper, no matter their grief — the doctor feels this defeat more keenly than any of them.

          With dawn arrives the navy ship — a magnificent giant made of timber and steel, — and on its deck are ranks of hardened navy soldiers all in dress uniform, standing to attention.

          Fleet admiral Smoker is there, admiral Coby at his side, and Luffy greets them with a grin and warm powerful hugs.

          The worn straw hat sits upon his head like a crown, — no longer on loan, but earned and paid for. The hat will not be passed on: it is yet another legend that will end with Strawhat Luffy as it rightfully should.

          High above, the Strawhat’s Jolly Roger ripples lustily in the breeze, flying half-mast.

 

——

 

          The King of the Pirates is executed publicly one week later in Lougetown and none of the crew is there to witness it — they have already said their goodbyes. Smoker demands the place and the publicity (despite the general outrage amongst the marine officers who at this point firmly believe public executions is a bad idea.) as a personal favour to Luffy, — who finds the whole ordeal unreasonably funny.

          Monkey D. Luffy’s final words go down in history, (though they are little more than a fond ‘ _Bye guys, I had fun’_ accompanied by one of his wide signature grins _._ ) and the night is remembered as one of celebration and loud toasts to the Man Who Freed the World. This is not Luffy’s favourite title, but he is no longer here to complain.

——  

          Robin and Zoro alight from the Thousand Sunny on the nearest Island, and they part ways. They were both lone adventures before and no one is truly alone when you know that there are people out there somewhere who cares for you.

          The sharpest shooter on the Grand Line — a brave warrior of the sea — ‘God Usopp’ makes the long journey home to his fiancé, Chopper accompanying him, claiming that he would like to help Kaya with her practice for a while, though in truth he simply can’t bear the thought of leaving his best friend quite yet.

          Franky and Brook sail the Sunny back to Paradise where they left Laboon half a year prior, before they too part ways, Franky adamant about sailing the Sunny around the Grand Line one last time as ‘a lap of honour’ before letting the Sunny go into retirement.

          Nami sets off to sea again, finally finding the time to draw up all the places they have visited these last many years, and few places they never got around to. She publishes her work 15 years later on the anniversary of Luffy’s death, and her fine precision work cashes in more money yearly than can in any way be justified. Sanji puts down roots by the all blue, too in love with the ocean to leave it. He wonders sometimes if he’ll end up like the old geezer in Water 7 but is content non-the less. Sanji’s restaurant — albeit small and too secluded to garner much patronage — becomes a sort of focal point for old friends and acquaintances to meet and chat and exchange wild improbable stories that always hold more truth than exaggeration. Every once in a blue moon, a true member of the Crew will stop by, — sometimes on purpose but more often not — and they will spend the evening not in loud rambunctious celebration as their Captain would have demanded had he been there with them (but then, he is not, which is the point) but in gentle enquiry and quiet nostalgia. They never stay long, an evening, (a day), before leaving once more. Reunions are too painful to bear for too long.

—— 

          In the wake of the execution, an official pardon is released for all members of the former Strawhat pirates and the promise of bounties is withdrawn, though the posters are left hanging in every bar, tavern and marine office the same way one might leave pictures of rock stars or saints hanging for good luck. All bounties except for one that is: witch was partly due to the incident at Wisky Peaks and partly because Zoro threatened murder and mayhem if they ever dared withdraw his bounty. (Fleet Admiral Smoker promptly raised the bounty a solid 100.000.000 berries after this in an attempt to appease Zoro, — but also because Smoker likes doing nice things for the Strawhats.).

          When the marine messengerbird arrives with the package two weeks after the execution, Zoro is of half a mind to fillet the damn bird simply out of spite. He doesn’t open the package for more than three years — he can guess what it contains and it annoys him that they decided to send it to _him —_ but he keeps it close and safe non the less.

          When he comes across a young girl with a reckless grin on her lips and adventure in her eyes, he leaves her the package — the devil fruit — and continues onward, vaguely wondering if it had been a cruel thing to do.

          Somewhere, beyond the doors of death, Monkey D. Luffy smiles in approval, and when the time is right he grabs a hold of Zoro’s hand and hauls him with him, ready to face new adventures wherever they may find them. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
